


Yes To Both

by lastincurableromantic



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 16:30:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6016561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastincurableromantic/pseuds/lastincurableromantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After six months of living a human life in Pete's World, the Doctor is restless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes To Both

It took six months.

Six months.

It took six months after being left behind with her on the beach before he began acting like a caged lion, pacing back and forth the length of their tiny flat, mumbling to himself. 

She was surprised it had taken this long. After all, it had only taken two days before the Doctor had stormed out of Torchwood in disgust, making loud, disparaging comments about its methods for protecting the planet. And the only reason it had taken that long was out of his respect for Pete. If it wasn’t for her stepfather, he’d have only lasted five minutes. Less than the length of time it typically took to get through security.

(To be fair, it had also taken Pete two days to get to the point of being ready to fire him, as most of the staff had taken exception to the Doctor’s comments and were threatening to quit if he remained. Pete had only held out that long out of respect for how much the Doctor had already done for the planet.)

After Torchwood, the Doctor had tried out a number of other career choices (the fry cook period was a particular disaster what with it ending in four separate fire brigades – and Torchwood itself – having to come and put out the resulting inferno) before settling on teaching physics at the local comprehensive.

At first it seemed like a good fit. He was a good teacher. No, he was a great teacher. He was able to bring the subject alive through imaginative lectures, exciting demonstrations and hands-on experiments. He loved the subject and he loved the students and they adored him.

He was less popular with the headmaster, however.

Far less popular.

The Doctor (purportedly) didn’t understand the whole concept of grades and saw no point in giving the students tests, a fact which he had discussed at length with the headmaster – _After all, I already know what they know. Why bother making them write it all down? It’s a complete waste of my time and of their time, and anyone who thinks otherwise is a complete and utter idiot. No offense._

After a month it was suggested that perhaps the Doctor would be happier somewhere, anywhere, else. It was only by the direct intervention of Harriet Jones that he was allowed to complete the term.

But now the term was over. And although he was trying to hide it, Rose knew he felt confined, trapped by the four walls of their tiny flat. And with nowhere to go every day and nothing to occupy his mind he was an explosion waiting to happen. Possibly literally. He had turned their guest bedroom into something that resembled a mad scientist’s lab (which of course was exactly what it was) filled with odd experiments using equipment built from dismantled appliances and parts scavenged (nicked) from Torchwood, bubbling pots of foul smelling chemicals (they had already been threatened with eviction), and laser beams that created a star chart on the ceiling when the lights were turned off. There was even a fungus the size of a small dog that glowed in the dark and that the Doctor called Irving.

Rose was _this close_ to calling Pete and begging him to take the Doctor back.

But to be fair, part of her wanted the Doctor to come back to Torchwood for completely selfish reasons. 

She missed him. 

Since they’d arrived in London after being dropped off in Norway, she’d spent far less time with him than she wanted. She’d gone back to work almost immediately: she had to be debriefed, reports had to be written, the dimension cannon had to be dismantled. And not wanting to have to rely on her for his upkeep, the Doctor had immediately gone to work. With his work schedule, which changed as often as he changed jobs, and hers, which involved being on call 24 hours a day, she felt like she hardly ever saw him.

This was definitely not the life either of them had envisioned when they had been left on the beach in Norway.

She particularly missed him every time she went out on a call. She’d handled all manners of situations without him over the years they’d been separated, but now that he was here it seemed unnatural to be out investigating aliens and defending the Earth without him. 

Not that she was doing all that much Earth defending. They hadn’t had a single crisis in the past six months. Instead, she was doing paperwork: writing reports on the resolution of the Dalek crisis and the decommissioning of the dimension cannon; processing visas for aliens on holiday or looking to immigrate; and forming a false identity for a part-human, part-Time Lord from a parallel universe that would stand up not only to scrutiny from government agencies but also, more importantly, by the tabloids. It was the last bit that was the most difficult, and was far more difficult than she had imagined it would be. He was referred to in the rags as the toy boy of the Vitex heiress and the paparazzi were obsessed with any kind of details they could dig up about him, even things like what his favorite band was (the Proclaimers, a band which didn’t exist in Pete’s World) and what flavor of Vitex he preferred (he hated the stuff, and boy, what a scandal that would cause if they found that out). The paparazzi were, of course, particularly fixated on finding out about their relationship, which had gone from nought to living together overnight. 

Literally. 

After a particularly long day spent helping a family of sentient rocks find a flat in Soho and trying to convince one persistent reporter that the Doctor had spent several years living in a tiny village outside of Montreal, she was developing a massive headache. She’d chosen Montreal partially because the Doctor spoke French fluently, but mostly because it was in North America and thus harder to verify. She’d considered somewhere in the United States and almost immediately rejected it. The Doctor’s American accent was crap, worse than Mickey’s had been, and that was saying something.

After she’d got off the phone with the reporter, she’d spent two hours, _two solid hours_ , arguing in French with one of their agents in Quebec who resented having to spend the rest of his day making her lies about the Doctor’s life in Canada appear to be the truth. He’d only agreed after she’d promised him an all-expenses-paid family holiday in London, a lifetime supply of strawberry/kiwi Vitex, and a tour of Torchwood—Cardiff so they could see a living pteranodon. The Vitex was no problem—oddly it was a common bribe in Torchwood—and she knew Pete wouldn’t mind funding the holiday. It was the tour of Torchwood Three that was the touchy subject. Ianto, who was its current head, would be furious—he was very protective of Myfawny and she was not looking forward to the row they were going to have over that promise.

Head pounding in time with her heart, she climbed the stairs to their flat and let herself in. Immediately she was bombarded by the scent of Thai food from the takeaway down the street. Thank God, she thought. The Doctor was a rubbish cook as proven by the explosion at the chippy —probably due to him having the attention span of a three year old—and she didn’t think she would have been able to face dinner that smelled (and tasted) more like his trainers than food. 

_Actually his trainers would probably taste better_ , she thought.

As she hung up her coat on a hook near the door, the Doctor entered the hall from the living room carrying two glasses of champagne. 

Her jaw dropped. He’d never greeted her at the door with a drink, let alone champagne. Plus he was wearing his blue suit from the TARDIS, paired with a dark blue shirt and deep red floral tie. After the metacrisis his taste in clothes had expanded; he had a closet full of suits—pinstripes in brown, blue, and dark grey—he even had a couple of velvet ones. He usually only wore the one from the TARDIS on special occasions.

“Wha… what’s going on?”

His mouth twisted into a grin as he handed her one of the glasses. He jerked his head back the way he’d come. 

Curiously she walked into the darkened room. She automatically reached for the light switch.

“Don’t,” the Doctor said. She heard him set his glass down on the table by the door. The sound of fabric rustling was followed by the whir of his sonic screwdriver.

Dozens of battery operated candles lit up, illuminating the room. 

She blinked. 

The room was filled with roses. Hundreds of them. There were vases of roses on the bookcase, on the end tables, on the table in the center of the room…

There was a small table, undoubtedly the one from their kitchen, in the center in the room set for dinner for two. In the flickering candlelight their stainless steel cutlery glittered like real silver and their plain white plates shone like fine china. In the center of each plate were cloth napkins twisted and folded to look like swans.

The candles, the roses, the blue suit…

“Fuck,” she said.

The Doctor stuck his screwdriver back in his pocket. “Well, I thought we could do that after dinner…”

“Damn it, it’s Valentine’s Day.” 

“Yep,” he said cheerfully.

She groaned. “Doctor, I’m so sorry, I forgot. You went all out, and I didn’t get you anything.”

“Rose, it’s all right.”

“But it’s our first Valentine’s Day together. I wanted to do something special, and I forgot.”

The Doctor took the champagne flute out of her hand and set it down on the table next to his. He cupped her face in his hands.

“Rose, it’s all right,” he said again. “All I want is to have a nice dinner with you.”

His expression was so earnest, so sincere, that all the negative tension inside her fell away, only to be replaced with a different kind of tension entirely. 

Well, it was partially his expression, and partially the blue suit, the suit he’d been wearing when she’d first seen this him. She’d always been partial to that suit.

“Really?” she asked. “Is that _all_ you want?”

She gave him a cheeky grin. 

His mouth twitched. “Well, maybe not _all_ …”

She grabbed his lapels and yanked him down to her. Their mouths crashed together.

He hadn’t been expecting it, so when their mouths crashed together their teeth did too. He squeaked in surprise. When she laughed against his mouth, he pulled away from her enough to meet her eyes. He raised an eyebrow.

“Something funny, Rose Tyler?”

All amusement disappeared at the smoldering look he gave her. The air between them crackled. She slowly shook her head. 

This time when she pulled him down to her he was ready, wrapping his arms around her and crushing her to himself. She opened her mouth, encouraging him to deepen the kiss, and he obliged. Lips softened, tongues touched and caressed. She ran her nails up the back of his neck before raking her fingers through his hair, something she loved almost as much as he did. And clearly he did love it since she felt him harden against her stomach. 

She pulled away from him. Breathing hard, he stared at her, dazed and deliciously rumpled.

“Dinner can wait,” she told him.

His brow furrowed, and she knew he was puzzling over what she had said. “Wha…”

She took his hand, lacing their fingers together, and jerked her head towards the bedroom. The penny dropped.

“Oh! Oh yes. Dinner can wait, dinner can definitely, definitely wait. Thai food is delicious reheated, unlike something like steak which can be ruined if not eaten immediately…”

He showed no sign of stopping, so she stopped him by covering her mouth with his own, a sure way—possibly the only way when he was on a roll—of shutting him up. She let go of his hand and placed one finger on his lips.

“No talking,” she said. She dropped her hand and took his again.

“Oh. Right. No talking.”

She raised her eyebrows. “No. Talking.”

He nodded dumbly. And then he grinned. In one move he caught her up in his arms and slung her over his shoulder. When she shrieked with laughter he gently swatted her bottom.

“No talking, isn’t that what you said?” he asked. “Next time I might have to turn you over my knee.”

“Wasn’t talking,” she protested. “I was laughing.”

“Same thing. Well, almost. It's an audible expression of emotion. And you’re the one who set the rules.”

“But that was for you, to shut you up. And you’re still talking,” she pointed out.

“Fair point. So no spanking for you. Not unless you ask very nicely.”

She snorted.

By now they’d reached the bedroom. He unceremoniously dropped her on the bed before pulling off his jacket and tossing it into the corner. While he loosened his tie, she took off her top and unfastened her bra. He stopped to watch.

“Kit off and get over here,” she ordered as she pulled off her socks. “And make sure you bring that tie with you.”

His eyebrows shot up to his fringe. Then he gave her a crooked grin. “Yes, ma’am.” 

He yanked on his tie… and it got stuck. She snickered. He shot her a look and pulled harder, only succeeding in tightening the knot. She burst out laughing. After three more attempts, he gave up. With a growl he left it on, pulling his shirt off from under it.

“Doctor,” Rose called. When he turned to look at her, she unfastened her jeans and pulled them off along with her knickers. She dropped them over the edge of the bed. “Better hurry up. I’m getting cold.”

He nodded sharply. “Right.” He unfastened his own trousers and pulled them down. But he’d forgotten to take off his trainers and they got stuck as he tried to pull them off. He reached down to untie his shoes, but he leaned over too far, tripped and landed on the floor with a thud. She laughed so hard she fell off the bed, landing on top of him.

Without skipping a beat, he rolled her under him. He grabbed her wrists and held them over her head in one strong hand, propping himself up with the other. “I’ll teach you to laugh at me, Rose Tyler.” He lowered his head to hers and kissed her until she was breathless.

As he moved his mouth lower, she dropped her head back. For a moment she lost herself in the pleasure of his lips against her throat. Then she pulled her hands down and pushed against his shoulders.

“There’s no way I’m shagging you on the floor when the bed is only inches away,” she told him.

“You’re no fun,” he muttered as he got to his knees. 

“No, just don’t want rug burn.” She grabbed his tie and with a single tug untied it and pulled it off.

He stared at her incredulously. “How’d you do that?”

She gave him a cheeky grin. “Girl’s got to have some secrets.” 

Shaking his head, he stood up and pulled her to her feet. He sat down on the edge of the bed and grabbed one of his red trainers.

“Need some help?” she asked innocently.

“I’ve fought Daleks and Cybermen, Zygons and Autons, Sontarans and Rutans. I’ve traveled ten million years into the past and a billion years into the future. I’ve surfed the solar winds of a supernova with the TARDIS. I think I can manage to untie my shoes.”

“I dunno. You couldn’t manage to undo your tie.”

Ignoring her, he pulled them off and finished getting undressed. Somehow, despite the distractions and delays, he hadn’t managed to lose his erection. She hummed appreciatively.

“See something you like?” he asked smugly as he crawled up to join her on the bed.

“Definitely,” she said. 

As he bent down to kiss her, she flipped him onto his back and straddled him. His eyes traveled down her body and back before meeting hers.

“See something you like?” she asked.

“Oh, yes.”

She smiled slowly. 

She took him in hand, causing him to gasp, and rubbed herself on him, teasing her clit and spreading her moisture over him. Then when she couldn’t stand it anymore, she lowered herself onto him, taking him inside her just an inch, no more, before lifting herself up again.

With her hands resting on his chest, over and over she slowly sank down onto him, each time taking him further and further inside, while he caressed her breasts and watched her, staring at the place where they were joined.

Finally he was fully sheathed. And she waited, enjoying the feeling of fullness, the feel of him deep inside, hitting spots she hadn’t even known she had until they’d begun shagging. She gently scratched him, playing with his chest hair, and shifted slightly, pressing her clit against his pubic bone. He groaned. He grabbed her hips and sank his fingers into her skin.

“Rose,” he pleaded.

Then she began to move. 

Up and down, rising and falling, she set the pace and ignored his efforts to try to increase her speed. And as she moved, over and over and over, he thrust his hips upwards to meet her.

Finally it was too much, even for her.

“Doctor,” she moaned.

He moved his thumb to press against her clit, and she shattered.

He flipped her over onto her back and pounded into her over and over and over, extending her orgasm and chasing his own, until finally he came himself, swearing and calling her name.

Still buried inside her, he collapsed on top of her, panting. She wrapped herself around him, holding him in place.

“God, I love you,” he said as he tried to catch his breath.

“Quite right, too,” she said.

He raised himself up on one elbow and shot her a look.

“You’ve just been waiting to say that to me, haven’t you?”

“Yep,” she said, over-pronouncing the last letter like he usually did.

He laughed. “Suppose I deserve it.”

He rolled onto his side and carried her with him. She snuggled into his side, and he reached down and pulled the duvet over them. 

For a long time she lay there with him, in their bed, with their arms wrapped around one another and perfectly content to stay that way. She was completely, utterly happy, just as she always was when she was with him, and had been ever since she'd met him in the basement of a shop in a totally different universe.

How far they'd both come since then.

Finally, just as she was thinking of how nice a bit of a kip would be right about now, he broke the silence.

“Rose, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should… get away for a bit. Take a trip. Y’know, travel for a while,” he said. “I know we don’t have the TARDIS, but there’s a whole world out there to discover. Never been to most of it, not in this universe at any rate. We could, I dunno, see the pyramids by camel, travel down the Amazon by raft, go on a photographic safari in Africa, visit Machu Picchu in Peru… go to Las Vegas and get married…”

Rose gasped. She propped herself up on one elbow and stared at him wide-eyed. “Did… did you just ask me to marry you?” 

He stared back, mouth agape, looking as shocked as she felt. 

“I, uh, I dunno. I’m… not sure,” he said hesitantly. Then after a moment’s thought, he shook his head decisively. “No.” 

She blinked. “So you _didn't_ ask me to marry you.”

“Nope,” he said cheerfully.

She felt a wave of a mixture of disappointment and confusion which quickly turned to puzzlement when he jumped out of bed, grabbed his trousers, and started rummaging in one of its pockets.

“Doctor?” she asked as she sat up. “What are you…”

“Just a tick.” He reached down into his pocket much farther than it should go, muttering under his breath. “Where is it? Where is it…”

She watched curiously as he shoved his arm down into his pocket all the way to his shoulder. 

“HA!” he said triumphantly. He pulled out a small velvet box and knelt down in front of her. He snapped it open, revealing a large solitaire diamond in a platinum setting. “Rose Tyler, will you marry me?”

She burst out laughing.

“Oi, that’s rude,” he protested. “No man wants to be laughed at while proposing. A simple no would suffice.”

She shook her head. “Sorry, ‘s just,” she said, trying to compose herself. “I mean, well, there you are, on your knee, proposing…”

“Well, I wanted to do it right. I’ve been rehearsing what to say for weeks.”

“Weeks?”

“Yep! Finally decided to ask you on Valentine’s Day. Got everything ready: dinner, flowers, champagne… Was going to wait to ask you until after dinner, but then it kind of slipped out before, so I decided that instead of you thinking I didn’t want to marry you, I might as well propose now.”

“But you’re _naked_!”

“Oh.” He looked thoughtful. “I didn’t realize there was a clothing requirement for human proposals.”

She couldn’t tell if he was serious or not, but either way she was overcome with another fit of giggles.

“So is that a yes or no?” he asked.

“Yes!” she cried, and threw herself into his arms. He hugged her tight.

Then he pulled away and met her eyes.

“Just to be clear… was that a yes to the traveling, or yes to the marriage thing?”

She rolled her eyes and whacked him in the arm. And then she kissed him.

“Yes to both, you idiot,” she said. “Yes to both.”


End file.
